


Mossad Mussings

by JackiLeigh



Category: NCIS
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-03 22:20:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14578857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackiLeigh/pseuds/JackiLeigh
Summary: Ziva's thoughts her first days at NCIS.





	Mossad Mussings

MOSSAD MUSINGS

“Zee-va.” Tony said, noticing Ziva had been starring off into space for a few moments. Actually she seemed to be staring in his direction a little.

“Yes, Agent DiNozzo.” Ziva said, snapping back to the present.

“Oooh, very formal for someone who was just undressing me with her eyes.” Tony said, batting his green eyes wickedly at her.

“Yes, Tony.” Ziva sighed and smiled. “I have always imagined what you would look like in a tutu. But the legs and the butt are a little too hairy.” 

“Very Funny, Agent David.” Tony said, a hurt look flashing across his face for a second, but it was purely for show. “I could have been a Contender.” Tony said, getting the accent almost spot on.

“Which movie was that line from?” Ziva asked.

Tony just smiled and gathered up his things, dropping everything into his backpack. “See ya tomorrow.” Tony said as he headed off to the elevator.

Ziva smiled back at him and nodded. She continued her musings about her partner. Tony had been a great partner to her. A very loyal dependable partner and a great friend. She hadn’t actually gone out socially with him. But she could easily see herself sitting beside him in a movie theater sharing a box of popcorn and him chatting in her ear, incessantly. She thought back to their cases together. Being trapped in the box, the rail car, his constant chatter, it seemed to lighten the mood for her. He had asked her a lot of personal questions. She had been a captive audience. She had tried to deflect his questions, he had pushed, gently. But he had still pushed. She had been grateful for that. It had kept her mind off of their perilous situation. She had never really explained to her why she had not invited him to her party. She could tell that when Abby and Gibbs started talking about the food that he had been hurt by being excluded. The look only lasted a second, but she had caught it. She had offered to cook for him. And in all honesty she thought that had confused him more. He had just looked at her and politely refused her invitation, saying he was felling a really sleepy from the pain medicine. That had probably been true, but he still had not taken her up on her standing invitation. She was not sure, but she guessed he thought she had not invited him because she had not wanted him in her apartment, because he acted so childish and immature and she had wanted a more sophisticated, adult evening and conversation. But then, why turn around and invite him to diner when it would be just him and her? She guessed that really made little sense to him. And she guessed that was really why he had not taken her up on it.

She mused still. Ziva had nearly fainted when she had seen Tony’s car blow up on screen. She still, to this day would have sworn she felt the tremors through her feet, it affected her so deeply. She remembered standing looking at the huge screen in front of her, her bottom lip dragging the floor. She had not reacted as her Mossad training would have taught her. She reacted as the Ziva she had become. She felt tears come to her eyes as she almost screamed his name at the scene before her. She shook her head. She thought she shook her head and she said his name again to herself and mouthed the words NO, No, No, over and over again. The pain, the anger and the hurt all formed a huge ball in her stomach as she and the rest of the team inspected the crime scene. She had felt the urge to throw up. She had had to fight that urge. She had also had the fight the urge to just run. She imagined herself throwing off her hat and coat as she did so, ridding herself of her NCIS paraphernalia. Ridding herself of her memories of the horror she had witnessed via traffic cam. Wishing for just the briefest of moments that she had never met him, so she would not have to feel what she was feeling. She had never been as happy as she was when those elevator doors opened and she saw him emerge. She had been angry at being lied to about an undercover op, of course. She had been very worried about his health, thinking he was relapsing due to the Y. Pestis. But, all that, all that was momentarily forgotten when she saw him in the flesh. She had had a hard time seeing, aiming her gun, through her happy tears.

When they had played the role of hired assassins, though he had been a pain in the ass with all the comments he had made about his virility. He had still been a gentleman. He had opened doors for her. He had protected her or at least tried to protect her. When the two of them had been tied up, he had continuously smarted off to their captors. He had, she thought, wanted to keep them concentrated on him so that they would leave her alone. She had managed to wiggle one of her hands loose enough to grab hold of his. She had squeezed Tony’s hand hard each time they had hit him. She had wanted to, at least, offer him that little bit of comfort. 

There had been other moments during their partnership, other great moments. She had been so happy to see him when she visited his ship after he had become Agent Afloat. She knew, technically, it had been a promotion for him. But it had been torture. She had been known he felt as though he was being punished for Jenny’s death. He had felt responsible. She had told him she had not felt right about certain things, and he had waved them off, at first. But then…. Well, then it was too late. But Ziva never blamed Tony. She was incredibly sad at the loss of a friend, but she did not blame Tony. She felt sure though that Tony felt she did. She thought when she first saw Tony on the ship, he looked good. He was tanned. He looked rested. He was almost back to his old self. She was so glad that the joking and the picking had started almost immediately; she had missed that so much. She was flattered that he had had her pictures up on his wall. Of all the women he could have had on his wall, he had picked her. But she knew he would have expected her to get upset with him over the picture, so she did. She knew he would expect her to demand it be removed, so she did that too. The look on his face when Gibbs gave him the news he was returning to D.C. was priceless. She had never, as she could remember, seen anybody so happy. He, as expected, talked a mile a minute the whole time on the way back to D.C. She nodded and smile in all the appropriate places, not catching all of what he was saying, just happy he was back and Team Gibbs was whole again. She had even let him give her a quick hug. 

Now she had become part of the family unit that was Team Gibbs. Ziva had heard Tony describe her once as his Kick-Ass little sister and it made her smile. It made her smile every time she thought about it. She had needed a big brother, true, Ari had been her brother, and he was older. But she had never trusted him as much as she had trusted Tony. She had loved Ari, no doubt, she had loved him. But she hadn’t allowed herself that closeness. She had had to kill people who had been friends. She had even had to kill family members. She could not allow herself that closeness. Loyalty to herself and those whom she worked for had been all she could afford.   
D.C., as the saying went, was a whole different animal. She had had to depend on people to survive. The first person she had come to depend on, strangely enough, had been Tony. She had trusted Gibbs and at first glance anyone would have guessed it would have been Gibbs she would have trusted first. But Tony had been the first to show her friendship, to open up to her, to show her vulnerability. She had responded to that and had developed a bond with him. She now knew him pretty well. She could read his moods and he could read hers. And as much as she hated he could read her so well, at times it was nice to be able to communicate to him all she wanted to say with just a look or a touch.

She smiled to herself, gathered up her belongings and decided she would have one handsome Italian man over to her apartment tonight to share a nice dinner.

THE END


End file.
